


Fiddlestan Drabbles

by bananabog



Series: The Drabble Series [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Mystery!Trio!AU, PWP, crazy!Gucket, modern!AU, old man loves his racoon wife, pre-portal!Gucket, recovery!Fidds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananabog/pseuds/bananabog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated Fiddlestan drabbles in 100- and/or 300- formats.</p><p>Prompt and Rating to be indicated in the titles. <b>Listed as "Completed" as it'll no longer be updated.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Said He Had a Twin, Didn't He - Gen/Fluff

**Author's Note:**

> A series of 100-, 300-, or freeform drabbles. Will be updated as and when I come up with stuff for this much undervalued pairing. /sobs quietly
> 
> If I write young!Fiddlestan it's mostly likely in AU-verse, and will be marked as such. old!Fiddlestan however should follow canon timelines.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan finds a certain crazy old man while searching for Weirdmageddon survivors. 
> 
> 8 x 100-word drabbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> old!Fiddlestan, set canon-verse. Based on the assumption that Stanley never met younger Fiddleford before he went insane, and that Stan has only known him as Old Man McGucket for the entire time he's been in Gravity Falls.
> 
> Written before the finale. Mild swearing.

He’s done this a hundred times.

Well, maybe ten.

…maybe just once, and that hadn’t gone spectacularly well.

But time is running out, and there’s only one place left to look that he can think of. Stan grumbles under his breath as the trap mechanism slides shut into place, and the bunker’s walls start closing in.

He doesn’t have the journal with him, but he’s probably pored over it more times than his great nephew has. His confidence is unshakable. Stan slaps The-Stick-Figure-one, The-Candelabra-one, The-Conjoined-Triplets-one and The-Question-Mark-one, then steps back, grinning, his arms akimbo.

The door doesn’t open.

“…oh _shit.”_

 x x x

He loses a shoe and a large surface area of skin (along with an equal-sized portion of ego), but he makes it out alive.

“Yeah! Take that!” he yells, gasping for breath and coughing, as the walls behind him close with an almighty groan. “Stan-diana Jones! In your face!” He groans. “Freaking… traps…”

He does a precursory search. There’s the old banjo, carefully propped against a bundle of rags, and several loose rolls of clean, but used bandages.  A half-eaten can of beans lies splayed on the floor, the tomato sauce still glistening.

McGucket was definitely here. Stan curses.

_Was._

  x x x

He almost ignores the commotion at first, but then he hears a familiar, _human_ screech amongst the more animal noises rising from the swarm, and Stan tears his way through the eyebats in record time.

“McGucket! You _know_ it’s not safe out here!” He shakes off bits of eyebat from his bloodied fists, panting, stomping over to the huddled figure cowering between the tree roots. “What were you… oh.” Stan spots the ringed tail, rock-textured and ramrod, sticking straight out over the other man’s arms. “Crap... McGucket, I’m _sorry.”_

“S’okay!” McGucket chirps. He continues to rock in place. “…I’m okay.”

  x x x

McGucket shoves the petrified raccoon down the front of his overalls and ties his beard around its head in a makeshift bonnet.

“She always hated it whenever I carried ‘er this way,” he sighs, mournful. “Sorry, Racoon Wife, but it’s fer th’ best.”

“Uh… yeah,” Stan agrees. “Hey, how’s about we head back to the Shack, huh? It’s still got a roof!”

The hillbilly looks unsure. “…Stanferd Pines, righ’?”

“That’s me! Mr. Mystery.” Stan strikes his trademark pose (it’s a little odd without his cane). “We’re givin’ free tours today! Whaddaya say?”

McGucket shuffles, shyly.

“…couldja carry m – ”

“No.”

 x x x

The silence is unnerving.

Normally, he’d do anything to get the other man to shut up, but now that he actually has…

 McGucket trudges dutifully beside him, toothy smile plastered on but his eyes and mind far away, and Stan recognizes Thinking Too Much when he sees it.

So Stan talks.

He pretends they’re in a great new attraction, never before unveiled. He spins up the wildest tales about the most insignificant branch on the normal-est looking tree in the destruction around them.  

He talks until McGucket actually starts listening to him for real.

He talks until McGucket starts laughing.

 x x x

 “No eyebats in here,” Stan assures him gruffly, when McGucket hesitates on the threshold of the Shack, “just gnomes, a multi-bear, a manotaur, some kids and a unicorn…”

McGucket steps through the doorway. He shivers as he looks around, eyes wide.

“…and that guy with the woodpecker wife. Do you two know each other? I should set you up.”

“I’ve…” He swallows. “I’ve been here before, haven’t I?”

“Probably. Yeah. I ‘unno.” Stan fishes around in his ear. “Everyone’s been here at some point, I mean… it’s the local attraction.”

McGucket is quiet.

“Would you… Do you have a study?”

 x x x

He’d been here, when the children had gotten tangled up in that whole electron carpet mess. He remembers that clear enough, but back then… he hadn’t _known._

The larger man watches him cautiously from where he leans against the door frame, arms crossed, jaw set, trying not to appear too obviously nervous. McGucket runs his fingers over the woodwork of the worn desk, picks up a dusty, faceted prism, and turns it over thoughtfully in his bandaged hands.

He closes his eyes.

 “…Thank you, Stanley.”

Stan only realizes he had been addressed by his real name after McGucket’s long gone.

 x x x

“Wait,” he gasps, stumbling loudly after the smaller man. _“Wait…!”_

 _Don’t tell anyone. You_ can’t _tell anyone._ No one _can know that he is_ not _Stanford Pines, at least not until he knows the kids are safe, at least not until he knows his_ brother _is safe, because it won’t matter, but only once this is all over, please, you can’t –_

He clutches at McGucket’s forearms, panting, wild-eyed.

“Please, _please_ don’t – ” he starts again and chokes on the words.

McGucket smiles at him. It’s the first time the other sees him lucid.

“…S’okay.” He pats Stan’s shoulder. “…You’re okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited in April: LAUGHING because oh boy howdy it ended up being McGucket leading everyone back to the Shack instead of Stan who did jack nothing, it's ironic


	2. Should Probably Get That Changed - Gen/Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "Fidds helps Stan through memory gun related problems"
> 
> 100-drabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the finale. old!FiddleStan, set canon-verse.

He stutters off into silence as Stan picks up his bandaged hand and begins… stroking it?

“Quality grade gauze, ayup,” Fiddleford jokes, chuckling nervously. “I’ve got some more back at m’junkyard, if ya wanna – ”

“This… is new. Isn’t it?” Stan looks thoughtful. He flips the hand over and begins absent-mindedly rubbing tender circles into his palm. “You had the cast before, but _this_ … I _think_ I bandaged this. Didn’t I?”

 _Goddamn it, you old coot, Stan grouses, and Fiddleford laughs as the other presses a swift kiss against his knuckles, Be more_ careful _, wouldja?_

“…Yes.” Fiddleford smiles. “You did.”


	3. Rub a Dub Dub - Gen/Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Old Fiddlestan: bedtime at Fidd's mansion
> 
> 100-drabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> old!FiddleStan, follows canon-verse.

Stan sighs loudly. It’s only half in exasperation.

“ _McGucket_ …”

“I know, I know,” the other mumbles guiltily. But he doesn’t move to leave the bathtub. “Jus’… feels real _weird_ , yanno? All these silky sheets an’ spring mattresses an’ fancy comforters… It don’t feel _right_.”

“You just need t’get used to it.” Stan’s arms stay folded, but his expression has softened a touch. “Sleepin’ in beds _is_ normal. Tubs _aren’t_.”

McGucket just huddles deeper into his beard.

Stan groans, resigned. His joints creak as he settles against the tub for the night. “…be glad it’s only my _back_ that hates ya.”


	4. Size Matters (NSFW) - Crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "fiddlestan with top!stan"
> 
> 100-drabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> young!FiddleStan, AU-ish. Implied wink-wink-nudge-nudge scenarios, size jokes, perverted-as-fuck!Fidds.

Fiddleford laughs.

He actually. _Laughs_.

This wasn’t any of the reactions he had been expecting.

“I’m sorry.” Fiddleford wipes at his eyes. “No offense to ya, Stan, it’s… a _sizable_ package, t’be sure, but… you don’t gotta worry about _hurtin’_ me with it. Not one bit. You’re _fine_.”

“Wha – ”  Does he die of shame? _Melt from mortification?_ “I-Is it too small?!”

“Not at all.” Fiddleford’s chuckles are subsiding. “But I am an _inventor_ , after all. Let’s just say I’ve… _experimented_. A _lot_.” His voice dips into a husky octave. 

“I’ll be able to take all of this and _more_.”


	5. Better than Counting Sheep (NSFW) - Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "trouble sleeping? lets fuck."
> 
> 1 x 300- and 1 x 100-drabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> young!FiddleStan, AU-ish.

“Stan. Stan!” Fiddleford snaps, but Stan completely ignores the other as he shimmies downwards. “Just go back to sleep, dammit, I’ll figure something ooooouuuuuu _oohhh god what are you doing.”_

Stan props himself up on his elbows where he’s lying between the other’s pajama-clad legs. He puts on the most innocent face he can muster as he cradles his chin in a palm, and smirks internally when he sees Fiddleford’s lower eyelid twitch in response. Oh yeah. He wasn’t the only one playing dumb. Fiddlesticks knew _full well_ where Stan was going with this and what he was planning to do.

“So…” Stan drawls, as he starts lazily soothing a palm along the inside of Fiddleford’s left thigh, and Fiddleford shivers involuntarily, “you probably already know this, but… Apparently, comin’s a _real_ good way to get to Sleepy Town.”

The other rolls his eyes but doesn’t move to close his legs. “You are _not_ performing oral sex on me at ass o’clock in the night.”

“You can say ‘ass’, but not ‘blow me’? Yeesh.” Stan lets his hand trail higher, and he starts lightly brushing knuckles along the pale abdomen revealed between the jut of his hip bones. “But you’re right. I’m not gonna blow you this late at night.”

“Good, at least we agree on – ”

“ – I’m going to tease you until it turns to morning, and then – and _only then_ – am I gonna blow ya.”

“There’s only an hour left to midnight,” Fiddleford drones, sounding bored. But there’s a glint in his eye that hadn’t been there before. “You’re insulting my stamina if you think I won’t last an _hour_.”

Stan makes a show of cracking his neck.

“We’ll see about that…”

He idly wonders how many times he can get the inventor to say his name tonight.

x x x

A hundred and twenty-one.

Sixteen within the first forty-five minutes.

Forty-three within the following ten.

Sixty-two by the last five.

Fiddleford’s pretty much just chanting his name in fevered whispers by this point, as Stan fills him in slow, hard thrusts that purposefully _never_ hit home.

The instant all hands on the clock hit twelve, Stan frantically shoves Fiddleford onto his back and swallows him down. He takes him in so deep he nearly chokes. Fiddleford almost crushes Stan’s head between his thighs as he shrieks and wails out his seemingly endless release.

They both pass out a minute after.


	6. See No Evil (NSFW) - Gen/Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "more dom Fidds"
> 
> 300- drabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> young!FiddStan, AU-ish. Heavy mentions of BDSM and kink play.

Stan turns extremely sensitive once he’s blindfolded. He strains and moans, shuddering where the other touches him fleetingly, shivering and gasping encouragingly as Fiddleford whispers nothings into his ear. As for Fiddleford…

Fiddleford is whomever Stan wants him to be.

He doesn’t need to fret about whether he looks ridiculous, or unsexy  – as long as he keeps the nervousness out of his voice and his hands he’s practically golden. Fiddleford’s usual impenetrable wall of blatant self-consciousness gets shut down the instant the blindfold goes on, and Stan _loves_ it.

They freely explore Stan’s fantasies: dirty talk, roleplay, spanking… all of it and more. Fiddleford is relentless during their sessions, almost a different person entirely behind closed doors – but once it’s over, once the blindfold falls… he turns back into the same twitchy, well-mannered gentleman Stan had fallen in love with. For a while it’s sort of a confidence-booster, switching between Jekyll and Hyde, and it’s a shared, private pleasure between the both of them.

Then Doubt rears its ugly head. It sinks venomous fangs into Fiddleford and cripples him. What if Stan’s not really thinking about him? Does Stan prefer if he actually was somebody else? Is he losing interest in the real him? Does Stan wish he acted more like this without the blindfold on?

Stan’s reaction is nothing short of explosive once he discovers exactly what’s been bothering his significant other.

“They’re both _you_ , you idiot,” he growls. He kisses Fiddleford fiercely, intensely, until the other is gasping for air in his arms, light-headed. “I love _you_. Whether you’re the shrimpy nerd or the dominatrix.”

“‘Master’,” Fiddleford corrects him, red in the face, “’Dominatrix’ is the term used for female – ”

“Then you better start actin’ like one,” Stan smirks.

The blindfold stays on the dresser.


	7. It's Called Common Courtesy (Slight NSFW) - Gen/Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fiddlestan ford finding out about theie relationship by catching them having sex"

“It’s not what it looks like – ”

“ – it’s _exactly_ what it looks like.”

They tear their gazes away from the third man, where he’s standing completely shell-shocked in the doorway, to gape at each other.

“You blew our cover,” Stanley grumbles.

“‘Blew our’ – ?!” Fiddleford gestures aggressively at the sheets around them, “Stanley, you can’t possibly try to bluff your way out of _this!_ ”

“Out of what? Wrestlin’?”

“…‘wrestling’ _naked?!_ ”

“OOOKAY! I did NOT need confirmation that you were both naked under the – ”

 _“THAT SOCK WAS ON THE DOOR KNOB FOR A REASON, STANFORD,”_ Fiddleford shrills at him.


	8. Get a Hearing Aid - Gen/Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fiddlestan: fidds having a crush on his oblivious boss' twin."

Fiddleford has just learnt, via his employer screaming at the unannounced arrival at their doorstep, that said employer, Stanford Pines, has an identical twin.

Stanley Pines punches his brother in the face as means of saying hello. Stanford staggers back up and launches himself at his twin with a snarl. The brothers tumble down the steps, cursing loudly.

They roll around in the snow and dirt and they’re sure to throttle each other to death if he doesn’t step in soon, but gods. Stanley’s got the same strong jaw line (and of course he would, being twins), the same eyes; the same _everything_ that had made Fiddleford crush so hard on Ford in the first place. But while Stanford had looked brilliant and handsome, Stanley appears more devious and rugged. His clothes are shabby and obviously not meant to combat the winter. He looks like he hasn’t had a shave nor a shower in days.

Stanley looks like a freaking homeless bum. And yet, Fiddleford _still_ can’t seem to stop staring.

He rubs the bridge of his nose. He’s a _grown man in his thirties_ , dagnabbit, not some infatuated, star-struck school girl!

Stanford has his brother pinned to the ground and Stanley’s shoulder-length hair is haphazardly fanned about his head against the snow, like he’s some kind of ridiculous male model (and it’s a _mullet_ , for christ’s sakes, and it’s unkempt, and messy, and he wants to run his fingers through it and rake out the knots wait  _what_ ) and Fiddleford clears his throat loudly to catch their attention.

Both men stare at him blankly.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Stanley says.

“He is _not_ my boyfriend,” Stanford snaps.

“Would you like to be,” Fiddleford asks.

Stanley squints. “…what?”

“I said, would you like some tea,” Fiddleford repeats.


	9. Forget Me Nots - Gen/Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Old man FiddleStan, someone buying the other flowers (and probably a flower beard)"

If the other had done this a month or two ago, Stan would have just tossed them in the trash. Or perhaps split the bouquet first before re-selling individual flowers at a dollar per stem in the Gift Shop. But _Things_ had happened, _Things_ that messed with his (he shudders) _Feelings_ , and so maybe he’s a little bit less gruff with the crazy old kook than he’s been for the last thirty years he’s not bothered getting to know the other.

“Um.” He waves the wilted, maybe-blue flower clump. “…Thanks.”

McGucket just grins widely and skips away without another word.

x x x

McGucket keeps getting him flowers.

Stan starts seriously contemplating the idea of re-selling them by the stalk. But then he sees that stupid smile on McGucket’s stupid face, when he shows up with the next stupid batch of flowers, and… and damn it, he’s gone soft in his old age. He doesn’t want that smile to turn into a frown.

So Stan doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Hey,” he calls, when McGucket shows up again, staggering under an explosion of wilted daisies, “There’s too much. I’m gonna re-sell these. Wouldja mind?”

McGucket doesn’t even blink, still grinning. “Nope! Sell away!”

x x x

“No, wait, stop. What? _What?_ ” Mabel’s pout is full-blown, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “That’s _it_?! Where’s the secret, desperate hoarding? The guilt from trying to get rid of them? The _pain_ and _anguish_ and _betrayal_ of having the declarations of your love so carelessly tossed aside and _left to die?!”_

Dipper groans and drags a hand over his face. “You really need to lay off the soap operas, man.”

Stan shrugs as he exchanges another stem for a customer’s quarters. “The old man ain’t got a problem with it. Works for me.”

 _“Your romance is terrible,”_ Mabel complains.

x x x

McGucket’s strumming a simple, tuneless melody on his banjo when Stan joins him on the patio.

McGucket beams easily. “Howdy, friend.”

Stan grunts. He fishes out a slightly battered circlet of flowers from inside his suit. Stan fiddles with it in his hands some, before clumsily setting it on the other’s bald head. Then he turns away to stare at the sunset.

McGucket takes it off. He looks at it for a few seconds… and then starts quietly picking it apart.

Stan can’t help but snort, relieved, as he watches the other start planting the individual flowers into his beard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
